


In Storm's Wake

by Chamomile



Series: Untold Tales From the Storm - 2017-2018 [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-11 02:10:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15962447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chamomile/pseuds/Chamomile
Summary: Since the evening Kan-E's simple camaraderie with the Admiral bloomed into something she failed to recognize, the calm had left her, slowly but surely, not unlike the waves that crashed upon the morning sand.  (Slight 4.0 spoilers. Kan-E/Merlwyb, originally written as a mock installment of 'Tales from the Storm' for 2018.)





	In Storm's Wake

Each footstep in the sand was an uncertainty. The grains were as fading stars in the sunrise, and with every small, nervous pace, she had left her fleeting mark on lands once unknown to her. The Lavender Beds had their charm, to be sure, but it could not be compared with the seemingly endless oceans of Mist Beach. 

A salt breeze meandered across her face, and as it passed she could not help but turn and heed the spots where she had made prior footsteps. They, too, had vanished, yet that was a comfort in its own way.

She, like them, drifted away for a time, wishing only to be lost before she was ever found. Yet she was found all the same.

“…So this is where you wandered off to,” a voice from behind her lingered on a breeze. Kan-E’s blood ran cold. She dared not turn and face its source…lest she recall all that had transpired. She struggled to contain the echoes of the prior evening, whispering in her ear as if she still remained in those moments.

_Let me free you,_ it spoke softly, _if you so desire it._

_More than anything_ , she answered.

Fear kept her from speaking. Though her lips parted, the words failed to leave. She was helpless before this emotion, this uncontrollable, tragic emptiness the voice behind her—the woman behind her—had left in her wake.

“You have regrets, then,” Merlwyb took the silence as its own response.

It took all of Kan-E’s strength to finally turn, finally stare down the shadow behind her as a breeze pushed against her back.

“My regrets do not lie with you,” she murmured, “You must understand, Merlwyb.”

“‘Twas I that kept you,” Merlwyb retorted, “Yet it was you who chose to remain. Why might that be?” 

“No one,” Kan-E’s voice quivered slightly, pausing to take a breath before she spoke again, each word a weight of its own, “I beg you…no one must ever know.”

“And no one ever will, I warrant,” replied the Admiral, “Yet my question remains unanswered, Kan-E.”

Why _did_ she stay? She wished she had known the answer herself. Certainly, it had been a wonderful thing to finally make a decision all her own, without a guard or a Twin Adder officer for malms. 

To always be calm in the face of danger…it was her solemn charge not only as Elder Seedseer, but as keeper of white magic, as well. That battle in Ala Mhigo had changed her, she knew, as simple as her role in it all may have been. 

Yes, since that battle…since the evening Kan-E and Merlwyb’s simple camaraderie bloomed into something she failed to recognize, the calm had left her, slowly but surely, not unlike the waves that crashed upon the morning sand. And so she let Merlwyb upon her shores as their correspondences grew over time, ebbing and flowing, growing and crashing within her until even she could contain their tumult no longer…all the more to Merlwyb’s pleasure, she had but recently discovered.

“You are the very image of everything unknown to me,” Kan-E finally put her feelings to words, “You are paths I cannot walk and worlds I can scarcely imagine. I suppose I found solace in that. You so value your freedom, and I now understand wherefore that is. It is the purest form of that freedom your people so cherish, and you are as the blissful uncertainty that follows.”

The Admiral’s expression softened as Kan-E spoke, the pale red sunlight hiding hints of grief in grey eyes. 

“Doubtless you’ll be returning to your cage anon,” she grimaced, “A shame. But know that should you ever find yourself wanting—”

“I will not.”

“You _cannot_ ,” Merlwyb corrected her, “At least know that you’ve nothing to fear, should you return to Limsa.”

“…Were we not bound by duty,” whispered Kan-E, letting that blissful uncertainty speak, “I would not hesitate to find you again.”

Merlwyb held out a hand that Kan-E took almost instantly, and in that small, comforting warmth, the memories all began to flow back, no matter how hard she tried to suppress them.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

Few words could describe the childish fascination with which Merlwyb aimed her miniature astroscope, the shining silver and gold pointed towards the heavens. In her heart of hearts, Kan-E would have liked to ridicule such a rare spectacle, but opted not to in the end, being that she was the Admiral’s guest, and it would not do well to offend her most gracious host in this most extraordinary of moments. 

More extraordinary, the Elder Seedseer would mentally add, was the freedom with which she was allowed to visit her comrade here in Limsa—She knew not what kind of missive the Admiral had sent the Entwined Serpents, if there had been any at all—But the once stubborn force of bodyguards were reluctant to refuse their liege upon learning that she would be watched over personally by the Admiral herself, as per a promise from the battlefields of Ala Mhigo. 

From the instant she had arrived in Limsa and took in Vylbrand’s salt air, it was almost overwhelming, as if a whole tree of faerie apple blossoms suddenly burst open in her chest. Odd though the imagery may have been, Kan-E was overjoyed by this emotion, this nostalgic twinge of home in such a faraway place. She would admit, having a personal invite from the Admiral to visit purely for leisure was somewhat worrisome at first. To the Elder Seedseer’ surprise, however, Merlwyb had treated her the past day with nothing but the strength and kindness she had witnessed during their post-liberation tea. Kan-E had worried once more that they would lack things to speak of and do, yet she found throughout the day that the opposite had occurred. Merlwyb had brought her to all manner of places in her city-state, letting her try the local specialties, savor the lifestyle Limsa Lominsa prided itself on. The Admiral seemed to have let her guard down for her, she considered—it seemed only right to do the same in return.

The astroscope appeared in Merlwyb’s hands after their supper, once night had worn well enough for the stars to hang on the horizon. The Admiral had invited her out onto the Stateroom’s spacious balcony for the occasion, and there they remained, taking in the refection of Menphina in the tides, the painted starlight of the Six Heavens. The evening was accompanied with a chill at first, but Merlwyb had prepared for them the finest bottle of Lohmani Red she could find; it was rare that Kan-E partook, of course, but this particular evening seemed the right occasion to do so. With but one glass, the two of them were warmed against the chill, their worries, political or otherwise, lost for the moment in the Wineport delicacy, the Padjal’s eyes upon her enthusiastic ally. She dared not break the silence, and instead chose to wait, wondering what new discoveries in the stars would fascinate the Admiral next. 

“The Arrow lies due east again this night,” Merlwyb finally spoke, a grin upon her lips, “We are in luck.”

She pointed in the same direction of her astroscope, guiding her fellow leader to a patch of sparkling green stars. 

“I am most glad to hear it,” Kan-E began, amused, “…Might I ask why?” 

“It is said,” the Admiral paused, attempting to recall something, “that the Arrow ‘shall deliver the souls of those trapped in the mire of confusion, indecision, and over contemplation’. I know not how much truth is in those words, yet each time the Arrow finds itself by our shores, it has brought with it good tidings.” 

“Good tidings?” repeated the Elder Seedseer, trying to fill in the blanks, “With commerce, I imagine?” 

“Nothing so impressive, I’m afraid,” Merlwyb shrugged, gingerly placing her astroscope back on the table by the wine, “but it brings with it small joys. Reports of a captured outlaw by the Dutiful Sisters, the Bloody Executioners’ cooperation, and the like. Say what you will, but I have had my fair share of luck from the stars. I haven’t the foggiest what I did to deserve them, but I revel in them nonetheless. They have long been my guide, and I would not hesitate to deny them their time.”

“While I am loath to admit I know little of the workings of the stars, I would not question their power…nor would I question your interest in them,” Kan-E grinned, “Rarely have I seen you so enthralled by anything such as I have with you and your astroscope.”

“When I am given the chance, I take joy in what little is left of the good memories of my youth, I suppose. Most of my passions have faded with time…but these same rolling skies guided me to the western continent too many summers past, and I’d prefer not to abandon them, as they’ve not done so for me.” 

It was rather refreshing to hear this side of Merlwyb, Kan-E thought. To most, she seemed almost too proud—she had heard many a Gridanian refer to the Admiral as self-seeking, or too brash. And while at times those qualities may have reared their ugly heads, when it came down to it, it seemed Merlwyb, too, looked upon her humble beginnings with respect and care. 

Their conversations and laughter grew warmer and richer than the wine they had partaken of, yet Kan-E tired little of it; she adored it, in fact…just as she did the Admiral’s presence.

…Then came the exchange even the wine could not have prepared her for.

“Would you care to try, Kan-E?” Merlwyb had begun simply enough, motioning to the astroscope on the table. She would not refuse her host, taking it gently into her hands and attempting to mimic the way Merlwyb had used it. Kan-E focused so closely on the heavens about her that she scarcely noticed Merlwyb’s presence growing ever closer.

“Never have I looked upon the stars in such detail…” Kan-E noted, fascinated by the myriad lights captured in merely a single blink of her eye, “Would…it be odd of me if I were to tell you…”

“Tell me what, exactly?”

“…that I have always envied them, in a way,” Kan-E let out a soft laugh, handing back the astroscope, “They look upon the whole of our very own star without fear of being held down. They know no borders and wander as they see fit. They…resemble you, somewhat.”

“There is much to envy of the stars,” Merlwyb smirked, “Though I fear you’ve misplaced your admiration of me.” 

Kan-E shook her head, eyes turned towards her companion, “I did not think you to be so modest, Admiral… Each time I am in your presence, each time I speak with you or write you—it is difficult to put into words, though I am fain to try—you…free me, somehow. Just as you had when we spoke in Ala Mhigo.”

Merlwyb’s presence inched closer again, and this time, it was noted…but Kan-E could not say she minded it. Yet the Admiral’s expression darkened, a hand gently placed upon her companion’s.

“…You mustn’t say those things, Kan-E,” she urged with a half-smile, “I have far too much to ask you in return.”

“You need not hold anything back, Admiral,” she recalled her heart aching upon the utterance of her words, tightening the grip on the hand that held hers, “You have been dear to me in these passing days, and I should like to hear all…if you will have me.”

She supposed in that moment Merlwyb could hold her own waves no longer: before Kan-E could realize, she had been taken into the Admiral’s arms, her heart racing and the breath stolen from her.

“…You would still not refuse me?” Merlwyb questioned, “Despite this…this base ardor?”

Kan-E realized in that moment that she had never been alone upon her waves.

“I cannot speak much of emotion, having been taken with something quite the same…” her face burned as she uttered her reply, one that she knew she could not turn away from.

“Then let me free you, if you so desire it,” Merlwyb placed a hand on Kan-E’s cheek, “…If only for an evening.” 

“More than anything,” Kan-E spoke without any second thoughts, her vision darkening, the sudden image of the two of them swimming in silks, basking in moonbeams. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------

“We shall part here,” spoke the Admiral as the two made their way to a lonely street in Limsa Lominsa; her usually brilliant eyes had lost something then, “It…may not do well for us to be seen at the airship landing together.” 

Kan-E nodded simply, yet a torrent of desires and proclamations lingered within her, a million words unsaid, a thousand apologies she could not make. She knew those last words were an excuse, and Merlwyb’s own way of apologizing for all this. Kan-E could only turn away, unblinking, one phrase in particular echoing again and again in her mind. 

_Would that you could have freed me for all the nights to come._


End file.
